


On Ghosts

by Takatsu



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8360440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Takatsu/pseuds/Takatsu
Summary: "Our is rink is haunted. It definitely is."Katsuki Yuuri doesn't believe in them. Ghosts. Spirits."Katsuki Yuuri!!! I'm not even kidding! The kids saw it--well him to be more precise.""Him?""Yeah well, I'm not even sure what to make it. But first time I saw kids wish to see a ghost...they were like, 'Ah Mama, he's really handsome! He looked like a prince who have fallen from the heavens! We tried to take a picture of him but the next moment he's gone!"Katsuki Yuuri doesn't believe in them. Thirteen years ago. He still did.He used to.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I am not sure how this will turn out. But I will do my best. It's been ages since I've written a fic.
> 
> I guess that's how inspiring Yuri on Ice is. ^^

_“Our is rink is haunted. It definitely is.”_

 

A bespectacled boy merely stares at a brown-haired girl. Both have been sitting on the stairs ofthe deemed haunted building, an ice rink by the name of Hasetsu Castle. It was now managed by his companion’s family, Nishigori Yuuko. To the boy, it had served as his second home, along with a ballet studio he frequented. Come to think of it, how many years has it been since he went inside? Ten? Eleven? It so happened that his Dad asked him to deliver a well-aged bottle of sake to the Nishigori family as thanks to helping them a week ago. The household had graciously helped Yuuri and his Dad to promote their hot spring business to some tourists who came to Hasetsu Castle to skate.

 

“That can’t be true…” His lips twitch as he bends to tie his shoe laces. Of course it’s that time of the year again. Summer. And then the tradition of Hyakumonogatari.

 

“Katsuki Yuuri!!! I’m not even kidding! The kids saw it–well _him_ to be more precise.”

 

“ _Him_?”

 

“Yeah well, I’m not even sure what to make of it. But first time I saw kids wish to see a ghost…they were like, ’ _Ah Mama, he’s really handsome! He looked like a prince who have fallen from the heavens! We tried to take a picture of him but the next moment he’s gone!_ ”

 

At this point, Yuuri had failed to conceal his amusement. He giggled.

 

“Well, isn’t that cool? A handsome ghost. Not many would be blessed by seeing one.”

 

“Yuuri!!!” Yuuko’s frustration was becoming more apparent.

 

“I’m going ahead now, Yuuko-san,” he says as he grabs his bag. “It was nice catching up with you. Say hello to Nishigori for me. And the kids as well.” As much as he’d love to stay to hang out with his childhood friend (and first love so to speak), there were a lot of chores waiting for him at home. Whether he was looking forward to it, it didn’t really matter. The hot spring business was something he had sort of ‘inherited’.

 

“Yuuri…”

 

Judging from the tone, Yuuri could tell that it’ll be that question again.

 

“By any chance…will you–”

 

He sighs. Of course it would be.

 

“No,” he utters with a smile, the same time Yuuko’s question ends in “skate again?”

 

It was Yuuko’s turn to merely stare at him.

 

And then she smiles. Wistfully.

 

“Come back, Yuuri. Who knows, the ghost might be waiting for you.”

 

“Haha. Maybe…for all we know he’s a better skater than I was.”

 

Yuuko’s eyes grow wide at the thought of a skating ghost.

 

* * *

 

It’s not like he never believed in them. In fact, he used to. Ghosts. Spirits. Their stories were what kept him awake when he was a child. The possibility of some ghastly sight popping behind him have kept him awake, but it thrilled him. It was his mom who’d always tell them before he went to sleep. _‘Hah? You have ghost stories before going to bed–aren’t you a weird one, Yuuri!’_ , Nishigori would often tell him in a condescending way (he was a former bully but well, people grow up and he’s now good friends with him–though sometimes he’d still be called 'Piggy’ out of mischief). It was hard to explain when you were just a kid, but now he’s twenty-three, he’s been able to put those feelings into words. It was the thrill. And it was the fact that he’d get the excuse to sleep beside his mom, asking her to stay after insisting to tell his favourite ghost story for the nth time.

 

And just like that, he’d cling to his mom, remembering the warmth of her arms around his chubby waist. And he’d smile, cause that’s all he needed to fall back to his world of dreams.

 

He was ten when the news broke out.

 

He was on his way home, running as fast as his legs could carry him since he really needed to get practice before the big day tomorrow. His mom promise to watched (she did when the hot springs weren’t really busy). He remembers how cold it felt to lie on that bed that night. Her ballet teacher had insisted on sleeping beside him. He doesn’t remember nodding nor refusing. He found himself tucked between her arms. But it still felt cold. Cold? That’s it. Weren’t they supposed to appear when it’s cold? Or it’s a sign that they are just there. Looming. Above him.

 

That was the first time that he wished to see one.

 

A ghost. A spirit.

 

Of his mom.

 

He waits, and he waits. He looks to his left, hoping to see his smiling mom. He hopes to hear another story.

 

It doesn’t come. 

 

He doesn’t come to practice the day after.


End file.
